


Stay, I Pray You

by lookingoodsugar



Category: Anastasia (1997), Anastasia - Flaherty/Ahrens/McNally, Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Other, anastasia but it's eposette, mix between the musical and the movie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2019-12-06 21:42:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18225788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lookingoodsugar/pseuds/lookingoodsugar
Summary: Cosette has no memory of her life before the uprising that lead to the overthrowing of the Tsar's reign. Chasing her past, she embarks in a journey with the unafraid Eponine and the elegant Montparnasse, unaware of her role in their scheme to collect the reward the Dowager Empress Fantine Magdalena set to whoever brought back her granddaughter.





	1. Prologue

_St. Petersburg, Russia. 1909._

The Dowager Empress Fantine Magdalena’s hair was loose on her shoulder and it smelled like orange blossom. Euphrasie wanted to bury her head in her nanna’s hair.

“Why must you go!” The little princess cried, pulling a hand around her knees. “Take me with you!”

The woman put a strand of Euphrasie’s hair behind her ear. “Wherever I go, you’ll always be with me.” She reached out for her granddaughter’s hands, leaning forward till their foreheads touched. “Do you want to see something, little pearl? A secret.”

Euphrasie gasped and her grandmother produced a small inlaid box. Under the bedroom’s light, it shone golden and green.

“Our secret lullaby.”

“Nanna!” The little girl gushed. “It’s beautiful…”

“What wouldn’t I do for my favorite granddaughter,” the Dowager Empress laughed before showing her the mechanism to open the box. The lullaby filled out the empty air of the bedroom, the Princess jumping to the floor to sing:

“ _There is a castle on the cloud_ …”

The Dowager Empress took both of her hands and led them on a waltz around the bed. “When you play it, think of an old woman who loves you very very much. Remember, Euphrasie, Paris, together.”

_1917._

Eponine Thénardier looked at the dancers whirl on the dance floor from behind a small door, in the corridor to the servant’s quarters. One day, she will dance too. She will wear the finest dress, and she will have shoes inlaid with gems, and her hair will be tied in the prettiest bow.

Her look fell upon her parents, mingling with the other guests. She frowned. How had no one noticed that two servants were suddenly two nobles? Beggars at the fest, cockroaches in silk. She tiptoed closer, trying to see her sister, Azelma. She was nowhere to be found. Eponine turned around, ready to blend back in the shadows when she bumped into someone. Oh no.

She apologized hurriedly, engaging in a staring contest with the man’s shoes. She could almost see her reflection in them.

“Excuse me, Miss…”

“Ponine,” she blurted out before realizing her mistake. Servants were not to interfere with nobility. Well, breaking rules was in her blood, wasn't it. She looked up and with horror, she recognized the Baron Pontmercy, a young noble she had a crush on. He smiled at her, and she almost swooned.

“I’m looking for the Princess Euphrasie, Miss Ponine, would you happen to know where I can find her?”

Eponine blushed furiously. She was about to shake her head when she heard the first scream.

It was soon followed by broken glass and someone shouted: “The Bolcheviks!”

They had been rumors the last few weeks that the Bolcheviks were planning on overthrowing the Tsar. Guess tonight was the night.

“The Princess!” The Baron gasped before running to the end of the corridor. Screams and gunshots covered Eponine’s shout.

She spared a thought for her parents somewhere in the ballroom before running in the opposite direction. If the Princess wasn’t downstairs, she was in her apartments. Eponine reached them first, or not quite so. Two men wearing red armbands were already rummaging through the quarters. Eponine spun on her heels and hit a blond girl full front, a small box falling from her hands. There was no time to worry about servants interacting. Eponine grabbed the Princess’s hand and pulled her to her feet. 

“This way, Your Highness!” She pressed before opening a small door on the wall. “Or else they’ll kill you!”

“My music box! I need --” The Princess tried to reach past Eponine.

“I’ll fetch it for you! Go!” She said before pushing the Princess and closing the wall behind her.

She spun around to see the two men exit the bedroom. “You!” They yelled, running to Eponine. “Have you seen the Princess!”

“I’m just a servant!” Eponine yelped.

The man glared her down before swearing and reaching for his gun. The side of the barrel hit Eponine’s head and she collapsed.


	2. A Rumor In St. Petersburg

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Eponine and Montparnasse trashtalk their city, plan a con and laugh at Cosette.
> 
> Also features Enjolras as a communist deputy commissioner that loves tea shops.

_~~St. Petersburg~~. Leningrad. 1927. _

The blood on the golden ornamentations, smeared with dust, gave the Palace a grim atmosphere. The silence was deafening and somehow, Eponine knew she was the only person alive in the building. Her grasp tightened on the cold music box.

The bullet holes in the wall made her shiver as she stepped into the ballroom. In front of her, the huge painting of the Romanov family was shredded, the colors pale and faded. Eponine ran a finger on the face of the youngest princess.

As she turned around, the ballroom was filled with dancing couples. The more she stared, the more she realized they were all dead. Women’s gown were red with blood, and some men were even missing limbs. She startled as the Tsar reached a hand for her, the bullet wound in his forehead running blood along his nose.

“Come now, child. We are waiting for you.”

Eponine awoke in a cry, her sobs swallowed by the noise of the city around her.

“Are you okay, Ponine?” Montparnasse called from his spot by the window, spying on the busy street down below. His top hat was placed atop of his head, he looked charming as always. Eponine had learned not to trust his looks.

“Nightmare”, she mumbled, “what’s up?”

“The streets are agitated this morning. Better check what’s happening. Also, they set up that thing there, I think someone’s going to make a speech. Everything is so red, Po, it’s ugly.”

Eponine shook her head, getting up. She tightened her belt and put on her coat before hiding her dark and disheveled locks under her cap. “You’re just jealous because all your pretty features blend in, now.”

Montparnasse gave her a look before throwing a bridge roll in her general direction.

“Eat up, jackass, St. Petersburg awaits.”

As the two of them exited the building, they noticed a man was now standing on the stage. His blond curls were hidden under a military hat and his uniform bore several medals.

“We hear you, comrades!” He said, his arm open to the crowd in front of him. “The revolution hears you! Together we will forge a new Russia. A fair and compassionate Russia that will be the envy of all the world. The Tsar’s St. Petersburg is now the people’s Leningrad!”

A roar answered him, the noise of the crowded place drowning every other conversation.

“They can call it Leningrad,” Eponine raised her voice to be heard, leaning against the door frame, “But it will always be Petersburg. It’s not a new name that’s gonna feed us.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” she said after a pause, “I love this city. The skies are gray, the walls have ears, and he who argues disappears-” Eponine turned to her side, expecting to find Montparnasse but he had already vanished. The blond officer had apparently heard her, though, as he squinted at her until she turned around the corner.

She walked lazily to the newspaper kiosk, leaning against the dark wood.

“Grantaire,” she called. The young man opened the panel, making the snow on the roof fall as he did so.

“Eponine! Have you heard the rumor?” He held up a newspaper, obvious to the snow he had just dropped on her head. “Although the Tsar did not survive, one daughter may be still alive, the Princess Euphrasie!”

“You know I value rumors, R, but don’t you think that’s a little too big? No one will believe that!”

The man held up a hand. “Listen, the Dowager Empress herself said she’ll offer money to whoever brings her granddaughter back!”

“Money,” Eponine squinted. “How much money?”

Grantaire leaned with a smile. “Shitloads.”

Eponine smirked before looking around to spot Montparnasse. “Thanks for the gossip I guess, R. I’ll see you around, take care.”

She spotted Montparnasse’s top hat on the other side of the street and waved Grantaire goodbye as she sauntered off.

“Parnasse!” She called and he turned around, his lips ever so red and pretty. Sometimes, it pissed her off Montparnasse looked so good-looking. Thankfully, he was not just handsome. He was also an asshole and that made him slightly less crush-worthy.

“Ep, they closed another border. We should’ve gotten out of Russia when we still could!”

“Parnasse, I’ve been thinking about the Princess!” Eponine cut him and he sighed.

“Not you too! That’s all anyone has told me for the past ten minutes.”

“No but listen, we’ll find a girl to play the part and teach her what to say. Dress her up and take her to Paris, just, just imagine the reward her dear old grandmamma would pay!”

Montparnasse’s eyes lit up. The pair was known for great cons, as they had already managed to sell half of the Romanovs' belongings. Furthermore, Montparnasse was an amazing forger and everyone wanted to get out of Russia so business was going well. But, Eponine wanted more. Always more. A bigger con. A fake Princess.

"We'll need to run auditions. And something of hers to show the old lady."

"Don't worry," Eponine said. "I've got that sorted."

Further down the road, a truck's engine made a loud noise. A blond street sweeper fell to the floor with a cry, covering her head. The Bolchevik general monitoring the place reached out to help her up. "It was a truck backfiring comrade, that’s all it was. Those days are over, neighbor against neighbor. There’s nothing to be afraid of anymore."

He put a lock of her hair behind her ear. "You’re shaking. There’s a tea shop just steps from here, let me…"

The woman shook her head. "Thank you but, I have to-"

"What's your hurry?" The general asked and she looked at his uniform to find his name. E. Vaganov. 

"I can't afford to lose this job, Officer Vaganov. But thank you."

"Please call me Enjolras. Will you be okay?"

The blond woman nodded hurriedly before quickly disappearing in the crowded street. Enjolras was left confused. She looked so much like... Could this be? After all these years, could she be the one he was looking for?

On the other side of the street, the blonde woman swept the front of the train station, looking longingly at the destinations. She ran a finger on the name 'Paris'. Leaving in three hours. She shook her head, resuming her sweeping. 

"Pst!" A voice called. The street sweeper looked around. An old woman leaned close enough to whisper to her ear : "You need an exit visa, go see Eponine at the old palace! You didn't hear it from me!"

And with that she was gone. The blond woman looked around the corner, catching a glimpse of the Tsar's old palace. If that Eponine can help, then she will go see her. And soon, she will be in Paris, and she will be able to look for her family.

 

Cosette was not only hungry and cold, she was also desperate. Her ripped dress made the winter a mortal enemy and if she hadn’t been so cold in the first place, she probably would have eaten snow to calm the growl of her stomach.

If she was first dubious about the Eponine girl and her service, when she saw the small fire burning behind the planks that covered the old private theater windows, she hesitated no more.

She knocked on the wood and on the other side of the planks, a masculine voice shouted: “Those bitches ratted on us!”

“Excuse me”, she ventured. “I’m looking for ehm, Eponine?”

A feminine voice replied: “Who’s asking?”

“My name is Cosette, the lady at the station said you could help me!”

The light from the fire disappeared as a figure stood right behind the planks.

“Sure don’t look like a cop,” the feminine voice observed. “Come on in, there’s a door at the right of the building.”

When Cosette stepped into the lit room, a girl was sitting backwards on a chair, her face dirty and her clothes as ripped as Cosette’s. A young man was leaning against a wall, half in the shadow. They tried to look casual but they were too stiff, ready to flee if things got sour.

Cosette got closer to the fire and has the light hit her face, the woman gasped.

“Pinch me I’m dreaming, Montparnasse, are you seeing this?”

The young man tilted his head, his top hat almost slipping. He had a pretty face and his clothes were elegant but worn out.

"What did you say you wanted?" The woman asked, fiddling with a small switchblade nervously. Cosette worried she'd hurt herself but her movements were steady and sure.

"Travel papers," the street sweeper replied, her voice cracking.

"Exit papers are expensive," the man in the corner commented.

"I saved a little money," Cosette started but the woman cut her.

"The right papers cost a lot."

Cosette felt her heart crumble. She was so close, she couldn't give up now.

"I’m a hard worker; you’ll get your money," she said hurriedly.

"What do you do?"

"I’m a street sweeper."

"A street sweeper!" The man mocked, taking off his hat to dust it off before putting it back.

Cosette frowned, wounded up.

"In Odessa, I washed dishes. Before that, I worked in the hospital in Perm," she stated frantically.

The woman leaned, putting away her knife, suddenly more interested.

"They’re a long way from here."

"I know," Cosette sighed. "I walked it."

"You walked here all the way from Perm?" The woman gaped. "Who are you running from?"

"I’m running _to_ someone. I don’t know who they are," Cosette explained, putting a stray lock of hair behind her ear, "But they’re waiting for me in Paris."

The man scoffed. "You don’t need papers. There’s a canal out there. Jump in and start swimming. You’ll be in Paris before you know it!"

With that, he turned to his companion with a hand gesture. 'She's cuckoo.'

"I'm not crazy!" Cosette cried, "Why are you so unkind?"

"We were hoping you'd be someone else," the girl said.

"Someone who might not even exist," the man sighed before joining the other side of the room to sit down, placing his hat next to him.

Their shadows formed gigantic silhouettes on the wall and Cosette's attention lingered on her surroundings.

The room looked oddly familiar, she began to walk down the aisle behind the ruins of the old theater. Her fingers trailed on one of the red chairs, and she played with a golden label who had lost one screw. She stared at it oddly, like she knew it was going to be there, hanging loosely. Rank E, it said.

"I've been in this room before," she whispered, "There was a play. Everyone was beautifully dressed."

"This was the private theater in Count Yusupov's Palace," the girl explained with a frown. She glanced at her friend who was still setback, asserting the situation.

"What's your name?"

"I, I don't know." They started laughing and Cosette hissed, "They gave me a name at the hospital. Cosette. They told me I had amnesia."

The snickering stopped and Cosette focused on the golden label, unscrewing it carefully before tucking it into her pocket.

"What do you remember?" The girl, Eponine, asked.

"They said, they said I was found by the side of the road near Yekaterinburg. They said there were tracks around me but it had recently snowed, and they were unable to even say from which direction I came from. That was ten years ago."

She started playing with the hem of her coat. "I don't know a thing before that but sometimes, I dream of a city. I think it's Paris, with a beautiful river. And I see a bridge by a square, and I here a voice say 'I'll meet you right there'. I know one day I will find back what I lost!"

Eponine gestured her to come closer, by the fire and wrapped her arm around Cosette's shoulders.

"Maybe we can help you after all, Cosette. It so happens we’re going to Paris ourselves."

She glanced toward Montparnasse, a plan already forming in her head. Her friend seemed to know right away what she meant. 'This is it', his eyes said, 'she's the one'.

 

On the other side of Central Leningrad, Deputy Commissioner Enjolras Vaganov's eyes conveyed an entirely different message. He had had a long day, looking over the Nevsky Prospekt and was struggling to pay attention to the three women standing in his office. 

"Anything concerning the Romanovs, even the most preposterous rumor, we take very seriously." He eventually said, taping on his desk with his pen. 

 _"She’s_ about as much a Romanov as I am." One of the women jabbered.

"She’s a street sweeper", another continued, "She was sleeping under a bridge until she took up with them."

"Her name is Cosette! Are you going to arrest them?" The third babbled.

Enjolras closed his pen, "You've done your duty," he said calmly, " And I’ve done mine. Listening to your gossip."

"It’s not gossip, it’s the truth!" The smallest woman shouted and Enjolras slammed his fist on the table, startling himself by his own force. 

"I believe you have nothing more to say, I suggest you leave now, and that I don't see you in here again!"

The three women left hurriedly as one of Enjolras's officers, Combeferre, stepped in. 

"Comrade, just the one I was hoping to see." He handed the paper he had just written on to Combeferre. "Could you find me this girl, please, it's about the Romanovs."

"The rumours never end, do they?" Combeferre replied, taking the sheet with a smile before exiting the room too. 

Enjolras sighed, letting himself fall back on his chair, facing the window. The street sweeper from earlier kept running through his mind. If he could only find her, ask her her name, then he'd know. 


	3. From Street Sweeper To The Long Lost Heir Of The Romanov Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Dream Team gives Cosette a make over and she is helplessly gay.

Eponine and Montparnasse offered Cosette to stay with them at the Palace that night. They slept near the fire and offered her dinner. It had been a while since the woman had last slept in a room or even ate anything that wasn't stale bread. They treated her like a princess, and she caught herself wondering if what they had said was true. Could she be the long-lost princess? It seemed it was what every orphan dreamed of, and she was no different from the girls she had encountered at the orphanage in Odessa.

She tossed and tossed in her makeshift bed all night thinking about it. The small fire near her bed made the paintings on the wall gloom over her like ghosts. She did not sleep much and when she did, her dreams were filled with blood smeared snow.

She woke up as the sun began to rise, coloring the sky of a soft purple gray shade. Eponine had given her a dress because she never wore any and Cosette spent a few minutes just stroking the fabric. It was so much softer than her rags, she almost cried.

Cosette's disbelief grew some more at the sight of the breakfast Eponine gave her.  

"How do you guys have so much money?" She asked, staring in bewilderment at her plate.

Eponine shrugged before saying: "We're con artists." And Cosette almost choked on her water.

 

After breakfast, Eponine led Cosette through the Palace to the old study room where Montparnasse had found a black board and was writing down the Romanov family tree.

"Are you ready to become the Grand Duchess Euphrasie Sonila Romanov?" She asked with a mischievous grin.

"I’m ready to find out who I am," Cosette replied with a frown, "but I’m not going to lie to do it."

"It won’t be a lie! We’re going to help you remember the truth."

Eponine took Cosette's hand to lead her to the center of the room. Most of the furniture from the Palace had been sold in the last ten years and you could still see lighter squares on the walls were maps and closets must have been.

"I wish I had your confidence," Cosette sighed, "but what if the Dowager Empress doesn't recognize me? What if she calls me an impostor?"

"It will all just be an honest mistake," Montparnasse said from his corner. "Either way, it gets you to Paris and it gets us out of Russia. Everybody wins."

"How do you become the person you forgot you ever were?"

"Take a deep breath," Eponine said gently, her hand still holding Cosette's. "Close your eyes. Imagine another time. Another _world_."

And as Eponine and Montparnasse starts to tell her the history of the Romanovs, Cosette finds herself distracted. Her life took such a drastic turn, and so fast. She barely knows the pair but somehow, she doesn't feel scared. Eponine is unafraid enough for the three of them. She's energetic and joyful, jumping on the remaining furniture to demonstrate her points.

First they learnt the etiquette, how to behave, how to walk.

"Royal bearing: head up, shoulders back and stand up tall, do not walk, but try to float." Montparnasse instructed as Eponine mimicked next to Cosette.

Her chin up, she held a hand out and Cosette took it, with a smile.

"I feel a little foolish, am I floating?" The blonde woman asked as the two pranced around the room.

"Like a sinking boat," Montparnasse said with a sigh before pushing Eponine's shoulder. She faltered and almost fell although the push did not seem very hard.

"All these years of teaching you how to bow and you can't even stand straight. Bowing is a sign of respect."

A smirk passed on the face of the young woman, but she shrugged. "I bowed once. I was a little girl; I didn’t know any better. That was the first and last time!"

Cosette tried to ignore the bickering to focus on trying to curtsy.

"Where did you learn that?" Montparnasse said with a raise of an eyebrow.

"Did I do it well?"

"Perfectly. Ponine, learn from the lady, she’s a natural!"

"What happens now?" Cosette asked.

"Your hand receives a kiss."

Eponine took Cosette's hand gently and deposited a delicate kiss atop of her hand, her chapped lips brushing softly against Cosette's skin. The blonde woman blushed but thankfully, Eponine was more focused on stepping on Montparnasse's foot to notice.

Then they taught her how to eat properly. Not slurping the Stroganoff, using the right cutlery. Days turned into weeks. Then they moved to the Romanov family, from the drunk cousin to the short uncle.

"Who is your great-grandmother?" Montparnasse asked, his top hat on his head as ever.

"Queen Victoria."

"Great-great grandmother?"

Cosette faltered, her memory kept playing tricks she thought, then she remembered.

"Princess Victoria of Saxe-Coburg-Saalfeld!"

"Your best friend is?"

"My little brother Alexei!" Cosette gushed.

"Wrong." Montparnasse replied with a cold tone."Your best friend is -"

"I know who my best friend is!" The blonde woman cried out.

Eponine raised a brow. "What a temper."

"I don’t like being contradicted."

"That makes two of us." Montparnasse replied angrily.

"You know what," Cosette snapped, "I’ve had it and I hate you, I’m sorry that we ever met. I’m only human, don’t forget it. I don't remember anything so stop trying to make me learn all this, there's no point. If you're just going to be a bitch then be a bitch with someone else!"

She stormed out of the room, vaguely noticing Eponine hitting Montparnasse over the head with a book. She roamed the castle, letting her feet carry her to wherever they wanted. She ended up in a large bedroom, mostly empty if it weren't from the cobwebs and a washed out pink wallpaper. Cosette stopped in her tracks, struck out by how familiar the room was. Maybe she had grown up in a room like this one.

"Hey," a voice called and Cosette turned around to see Eponine leaning against the door frame. Her shirt sleeves were rolled up and her arms crossed. The sun shone gently on her skin, making a halo around her face.

"Sorry Montparnasse is such an asshole. I mean, he knows best, but he's so cocky about it, it's annoying."

"He knows best?" Cosette mocked.

"All that he's teaching you, he learned it himself, years ago. He's good, Cosette, you have to believe me. He managed to infiltrate the Tsar's Court when he was barely eighteen to avoid getting deployed to war. He's smart, and he's an excellent forger."

"That doesn't change anything to the fact that he's a bitch, though."

"That's just his personality, I think he was born like that. Like, his mother would try to feed him, and he'd be like, 'you're doing it wrong, you have to hold you elbow higher'."She mocked him with a very nasal voice.

Cosette let out a laugh and Eponine met her gaze, a smirk forming at the corner of her mouth. She looked particularly beautiful.


	4. The Neva Flows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras warns Cosette and backstories unravel.

Enjolras trailed a finger on the cold glass, frozen dew running down with the heat of his skin. Beside him, the snow twirled around Leningrad, the Neva flowed with passion and fury at the very right of the Nevsky Prospekt. The deputy commissioner wondered where his own fury had gone. Back in the days, he was the most passionate comrade, "righteous fury" they had said. Now he was just following orders, to make Russia better, according to the Soviet. But recently, Enjolras found himself doubting. Not that he would ever admit it.

He was jolted from his reverie when officer Combeferre came in. 

"She’s here," he said.

"So, our little troublemaker has been found," Enjolras stated, still facing the window. "It’s a remarkable city, our Leningrad, you know. All those people down there, coming and going, creating a future for themselves. I stand at this window for hours admiring them. And wondering why a few bad apples are getting up to mischief instead. I can see all the way to the old Yusupov Palace. Funny business going on there. Counterrevolutionary behavior, some might say!"

"Why was I brought here?" said a feminine voice. 

"I thought you could tell me, comrade!" Enjolras said loudly before turning around. His eyes widened at the sight of the woman. "You? The frightened little street sweeper! I almost-" He dismissed Combeferre. "I had almost stopped looking for you on the Nevsky Prospekt. Cosette, right? 

The blonde woman nodded, a dirty strand falling from her messy bun. He held out a hand but she did not take it. Enjolras was once again taken aback by how much she looked like _her._  Well, _her,_ had not she disappeared ten years ago.

" You're shivering. A friendly cup of tea will warm us both up." Enjolras dug up two cups from a drawer and served the tea his secretary had brought up earlier. 

"What is the charge?" Cosette asked distrustfully. 

Enjolras furrowed his brows. "There is no charge. Why should there be? You have a job, food on the table, your own place in the new order of things."

"I’m very thankful." Cosette said, taking the fuming cup to her lips. 

"Which is why I’m warning you to leave your land of make believe before it’s too late." Enjolras vouched, maybe a little too quickly. 

The street sweeper lowered the cup, "I don’t understand." 

Enjolras paced around his desk. "If you really were who you’re pretending to be, they’d kill you." He stopped behind her. "Without hesitation."

From his spot, he did not miss the shudder that shook her shoulders. 

"Everyone imagines being someone else," she said with a tiny voice. "I’m no different. It’s just a game." 

"It's a dangerous one. The Romanovs are gone. Every last one of them. They no longer exist." He put a hand on her shoulders, startling her. "My father was one of the guards. In charge with the, you know, the execution. That's why I'm in charge of everything concerning the Romanov rumors."

Enjolras still remembered vividly that tragic night. 

"I heard the shots. I heard the screams. But it's the silence after I remember most. The world stopped breathing and I was no longer a boy."

He walked to the window and turned to her, planting his gaze in her eyes. Blue faced blue. Like two raging seas collapsing. "I'm begging you, stop this pipe dream."

Cosette put down the cup on the desk and said carefully: "Thank you for your warning, comrade."

"Please. Call me Enjolras."

She nodded once more and moved toward the door and Enjolras called out. 

"As your new friend, be careful Cosette. As Deputy Commissioner Enjolras Vaganov, be _very_ careful."

As she walked out, Combeferre came in with a dark haired man whose eyes were completely hidden by curls that bounced with each step.

"Come on, Ferre, you know me! We're friends!"

"Because you keep getting arrested. And it's officer Combeferre to you."

"Maybe there's a reason why I keep getting arrested." The man said, his eyes locking with Enjolras. "Oh hey!"

"Comrade Grantaire," the deputy commissioner sighed. "Why are you here."

"Hey, who was that girl just before? You let her go, didn't you. I bet she's a suspect in a triple homicide case."

"We don't do homicides."

"But you did let her go. You got a crush or something ?" Grantaire smiled as Combeferre handcuffed him to the arm of the chair in a swift way, like an old routine.

Enjolras pinched the bridge of his nose. "Love is not what revolution's for, I have bigger plans than _getting some_."

"Why did I even ask, everyone knows you're basically married to Russia."

Enjolras ignored the comment and cleared a part of his desk to rest his feet on it. "What is it this time? Theft? Forgery? Got drunk and punched someone?"

"The Romanov rumor," Combeferre said.

The blond man looked up at once, put his feet down and straightened his back. "That's serious."

"It's a rumor," Grantaire pointed out, toying with a pen with his free hand. "The whole principle of a rumor is that it's not true."

"I don't understand why you of all people would stir up a mess such as this," Enjolras said with a frown. "Create a fake rumor?"

"How do you know it's fake? Also, I see several reasons why me of all people would spread that rumor."

Enjolras raised a brow. 

"One, it's fun. Two, I have nothing else to do. Three, I literally live off rumors. Four, I knew I'd get arrested. Five, I knew you'd be here." He tapped the table with the pen at each sentence before dropping it dramatically.

"You did this on purpose?"

"What? You think I'm only here for your pretty eyes? I love it here." He missed the doubtful look on Combeferre's face.

"Can I have some tea or is it just for pretty blondes?" Grantaire asked. Hell, he practically lived here now.

Enjolras rolled his eyes and took out a third cup. 

 

Oh the other side of St. Petersburg, Cosette and Eponine were meeting under a sketchy street light. Well, Cosette was under the street light, Eponine was hidden just outside the glow. 

"He said his name was Enjolras Vaganov. They know where we live Eponi—"

"Well, if it isn't the Princess of St. Petersburg." A big voice said from behind Cosette and she startled.

But the strong man who stood behind her was not talking to her, he barely even noticed her. Eponine ducked her shoulders. 

"We thought you were in Paris," said another man that Cosette hadn't even noticed. He was as tall as the other was wide. They both looked dirty and drunk.

"She missed her old partners in crime," the first man said, his breath reeking of vodka. "Your father's back in St. P. y'know. 'S looking for you."

Eponine's lips pressed in a tight line and Cosette noticed her fumbling for her knife. 

"Hey, looks like she got herself a new girlfriend instead," the second man said grabbing Cosette's arm. He brought her back into the light she had wandered away from.

"It’s Euphrasie herself. I bet she’s got you bowing for her like a regular little Tsarina!"

"Brujon," Eponine bellowed, "let her go or I swear to God—"

"What?" Said the tall man behind her, "Montparnasse isn't here to protect you, is he."

Before she could reply, Cosette planted her foot the big man's who he let go of her brusquely. She kicked him in the crotch before locking his arm in a swift movement. With a quick blow in his knee caps, she brought him to the ground.

Eponine snatched the occasion and stabbed the other in the thigh. "Eat shit, Claquesous. Tell my father he can rot in hell."

She grabbed Cosette hand's at once and made a run for it, before reaching her apartment and locking it hastily. Cosette let herself fall on the small cranky bed and let out a breath as Eponine threw the blade in the little sink. 

"Fuck," she stormed out. "Fuck. I thought, oh my God, I'm so stupid. How can I be this stupid. Nice kicks by the way, where did you learn that?"

"I didn’t walk halfway through Russia without learning to defend myself. You stabbed him! You knew him too? Who were they 'Ponine?"

"Associates of my parents, they go way back."

"They raised you or something?"

"Nah, I raised myself." She proceeded to wash the knife. "I grew up in the gutters of Petersburg. Bartered for a blanket, stolen for my bread. I'd be on the piers, palaces above, alleyways below, selling stolen souvenirs of Petersburg. That was before my parents got this grand idea. They pretended they were noble, forged their identity, made it into the Court. I made it into the servants quarter, not past that. That's where I met Montparnasse. After the uprisings, he took care of me. My parents disappeared."

She went to sit next to Cosette on the bed. "Me and him got in business, selling the old furnitures and precious shit from the Palace. He got that job for a while as an undertaker, kept the hat and the papers. He became the greatest forger of St. Peterburg. I just got good at stealing from people that already had nothing. I'm not saying anyone here had it easier, just, that's my Petersburg, it's not pretty. It's bleak, it's dirty. Hell, Parnasse stole from dead people. If anything, I can't wait to bail out of here. I hate the person it made of me."

In a comfy silence, thighs touching, the two woman looked at their shoes. The snow formed a gross puddle on the floor, Cosette drew shapes with it from the corner of her boot. 

"I need to show you something," Eponine finally said.

The blonde woman looked up, their eyes meeting for a second before she looked away. Eponine stood up and went to the wall opposite where she retrieved from behind a loose brick a small round green object. 

"I hid it because I was afraid Montparnasse would sell it."

She offered it to Cosette before sitting back on the bed, leg still pressed against Cosette's.

The blonde woman frowned. What she was holding was a small inlaid box, cold against her fingers. 

"What is it?" she whispered, mesmerized by the pearls.

"A music box."

"It’s beautiful."

"It’s broken. I can’t even open it."

Cosette fumbled in her pocket absent-mindedly, retrieving the crooked 'E' tag she took at the theatre. Easily, she tucked it at the bottom of the box and turned it three times, the lid jolting open. And eerie music started to play as both girls looked with wide eyes at the music box then at each other.

"How did you knew it would open?" Eponine asked, bewildered.

"I didn't. I just, Eponine it sounds so... familiar. I don't know how to explain it. This, this melody, I, I created a lullaby on this exact melody."

 _There is a castle on a cloud,_  
_I like to go there in my sleep,_  
_Aren't any floors for me to sweep,_  
_Not in my castle on a cloud._

 _There is a lady all in white,_  
_Holds me and sings a lullaby,_  
_She's nice to see and she's soft to touch,_  
_She says "Cosette, I love you very much."_

 

_I know a place where no one's lost,_  
_I know a place where no one cries,_  
_Crying at all is not allowed,_  
_Not in my castle on a cloud..._

"How soon do you think we can go?" Cosette quavered, startling Eponine. "They’re cancelling trains right and left. Here." She reached into her pocket and grabbed some money she thrusted in Eponine's hand. "I worked an extra shift this week. It’s not much, but every little bit helps." 

"We’re not even close, princess," Eponine replied with a quiet voice.

"What?"

"I thought I could get us out before they closed the borders for good but we don't have enough. There must be someone else who can help you, I’m sorry."

Eponine tried to hand Cosette her money back.

"I don’t want your money."

"It’s _your_ money!"

"It’s _our_ money. I trusted you," Cosette hissed.

"I said I’m sorry," pleaded Eponine. 

"I didn’t trust you enough," the blonde woman realized. "Close your eyes." 

"What for?"

"Oh my God, you're the stubbornest person I’ve ever met. Almost as stubborn as me. Put your hand out," Cosette ordered.

She gently set her small treasure in Eponine's outstretched hand. "Open your eyes."

Eponine's eyes grew wide. "It’s a diamond!" She marveled.

"The nurse in the hospital found it sewn in my underclothes."

"You’ve had it _all_ this time without telling me?"

Cosette nodded.

"Why?!"

She frowned. "It’s the only thing I have! Without it, I have nothing!"

"How do you know I won’t take it now and you’ll never see me again?" Eponine ventured. 

"I don’t think you will!"

At that moment, the key turned in the lock and Montparnasse burst in. 

"Oh God you're here! The Yugusov Palace has been raided! We’re done for if we go back there." His eyes met the diamond in Eponine's palm. "Holy fuck!"

"She had it the all along!"

"I didn’t trust either of you with it!," Cosette repeated. "I do now."

"I don’t blame you." Montparnasse said with a smile. "But nevermind! All is forgiven!"

"Parnasse, I’m trusting you to get the exit papers," Eponine asked.

"On it! There is a train at midnight from the Finland station!"

"I’ll fetch the diamond." Eponine said. "Where are you going?"

Cosette gestured to the door. "They owe me a week’s wages. Every ruble counts!"

They all left the flat in a hurry, suddenly excited and eager to finally leave. 

Paris had never felt so close.


	5. Let Me Say Goodbye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snippets from the journey to Paris. We meet a side character but then he dies :/

The night was draped on St. Petersburg like a dark veil. The station's light shone a dirty glow around the passengers about to board. Children sat on suitcases, skinny women held to books and men buttoned and unbuttoned their coats. The cold was seeping in between the bodies, like a deadly breeze. 

"It’s a special train," Montparnasse had said, "Aristocrats and intellectuals. Everyone the Bolsheviks want to be rid of. We’ll be traveling as members of the Diagelf Ballet Russe."

"We don't look like dancers," Cosette had pointed out. 

They were wearing ragged clothes, a skirt for Cosette, trousers for Eponine, and oversized coats. Montparnasse had his best cut but threadbare suit and his usual top hat. 

"Speak for yourself," he laughed. "I have all the grace needed."

Eponine slapped the back of his head, the top hat almost falling. "Train's here," she said.

No one moved. 

"I can't believe we're never coming back..." Cosette said softly, playing with the hem of her coat, "I don't have much memories of it but, it's home! I'll miss it."

Eponine put a hand on Cosette's shoulder and nodded. "I wouldn't be who I am if I had lived elsewhere. Some part of me hates it, but it raised me. It's hard to say goodbye."

Montparnasse hummed quietly. They still made no movement toward the train. 

Someone jostled Cosette from behind, and she almost collapsed, Eponine grabbing her arm at the last moment.

"I'm sorry!" Said a masculine voice. "I wasn't look—"

The man stopped in his tracks when he saw Cosette's face. He kneeled before taking her hand and gently deposing a kiss on her cold reddened skin.

"God bless you," he said, before leaving.

Cosette turned to glance at her companions with an inquisitive look. Eponine, still holding her arm looked like she had seen a ghost.

"I know that man. That's the Baron Marius Pontmercy. I used to have a crush on him, when I worked at the Palace. I think he was in love with Euphrasie. I thought, I thought he was dead."

Montparnasse raised a brow. "What, you don't keep an eye on what your man becomes?"

Eponine huffed. "He's not my man, you and I both now I don't swing that way anymore. He’s not just an aristocrat, but an intellectual as well. He’s a dead man on both counts."

Cosette nodded, even though she hadn't listened to the end of it, her brain stopping at Eponine's first sentence. 

"We should go," she said eventually after what might have been a little too long. 

 

Watching Russia fly by the window was almost surreal. Realization was starting to hit Cosette, they were never coming back. Moreover, she was going to Paris! Her future was a journey to the past and soon, she would finally have an answer.

Her stare fell on her travelling companions. Eponine was asleep, her eyes hidden by Montparnasse's hat and the later was forging exit papers so they could cross borders. It was weird to see him without his hat, his black hair falling in front of his face in a fluid motion. He was absently bitting on a cherry red lip, concentrated on the final touch on the papers. 

Eponine was lying with her arms crossed, one boot rested on the tip of the other. She looked peaceful, her lips were chapped. Not that Cosette was staring or anything. Just... noticing.

_You and I both know I don't swing that way anymore._

The train suddenly screeched to a halt, stopping Cosette's inner thoughts and Eponine almost fell off the couch. From the window, Cosette saw two officers climb aboard. Soon enough, one of them stepped into their compartment. Cosette's heart was beating so loud in her chest the officer could probably hear it.

"Paper," he ordered. 

Montparnasse ended them to him, his hands shaking a little. "Good evening, comrade. Is there a problem?"

"We’re looking for someone who is illegally leaving the country," the officer said, scanning their faces.

"Didn’t have the right papers, eh?" Eponine said, a slight tremor in her voice.

"He had the right papers," the officer laughed, "he had the wrong name, Baron Pontmercy!"

Everyone took a breath and a sudden hush fell on the compartment as the officer left, only to be broken by a gunshot in the distance. 

"I’ll go see what happened," Montparnasse said silently.

"We _know_ what happened," Eponine quavered.

Cosette silenced a sob and Eponine pulled her into a hug. Her hair smelled like antiques and Cosette wanted to cry even more. The Baron had reacted like she was a princess and now, she was starting to really wonder if it was possible. Could she be Euphrasie Romanov?

"Calm her down," Montparnasse whispered. "Any tears will betray us."

Eponine patted soothingly Cosette's messy blond hair. "We’ll be safe soon," she murmured.

Cosette took a step back. "That’s what the soldiers said when they were pointing their guns at us. They said they were taking us somewhere safe. 

"Whats soldiers?" Eponine asked with a frown. "No one’s pointing guns at you! You’re taking this too far, Cosette!"

"Not if I really am her!" Cosette cried out. "You put these ideas in my head. I’m beginning to think they might be true."

Montparnasse came barging in the compartment, picking the only suitcase up. "Fuck! Three Czechish officers just came aboard with orders to arrest _one man,_ and _two young women."_

"That could be anyone," Eponine argued only to be thrust a poster in her hands. Her face stared right back at her. 

"I don’t think so!" Montparnasse said before tugging them into the train aisle.

"What are we going to do?" Eponine whispered.

"We’re getting off!" Cosette said. "Quick before the train accelerates again."

She ran to the end of the aisle where she pulled at the door handle and opened it wide, letting the cold air seep in. They were the last car, only the snowy rail tracks faced them.

She locked her arms with Montparnasse and Eponine's and took a long breath, like she was leaping into water.

"Jump!"

 

Walking through Russia, snow in her boots, but not cold enough to numb the pain in her feet, was _not_ something Cosette had missed. She would have gladly gone without it but they still needed to cross the border.  Montparnasse had suggested they reach Warsaw and go down the river till they reach the Baltic Sea and then take a boat to Calais or Dunkirk. 

In Lviv, they managed to get a ride to Warsaw and cross the Polish border without much trouble, hiding in a bus's trunk. Montparnasse had managed to get boat tickets to ride down the Vistula River. Cosette knew he'd stolen them but made no comment. She never believed she'd even get this far. If it weren't for Eponine and Montparnasse, she'd be back in Odessa, scrubbing plates. 

Of course, Cosette was nervous. She was going to have to convince a woman who had really known the Grand Duchess that she could be Euphrasie. Even herself doubted that. 

"What if she spots immediately that I'm a fraud?" Cosette nudged, her foot slightly touching Eponine's boot. 

"She won't," Eponine said, soothingly touching Cosette's knee, "Don't worry, you'll have plenty of time to practice. In Paris, your first challenge will be the Dowager Empress’s person-in-waiting."

"The Count Prouvaire-Malevich," she said, at the same time Montparnasse said "Jehan!"

Cosette frowned. "I thought we were gonna see the Dowager Empress first?"

"No one has access to her majesty without _them,"_ Montparnasse clarified. 

"They sound like a dragon."

The young man laughed, "They are. They look like a rose but inside, they are the bravest, strongest, most stubborn person I've ever met."

As Montparnasse looked with melancholy in the distance under the amused eyes of his travel companions, Eponine started to describe them to Cosette.

"Imagine a tall person, with long red hair and a very pale skin. They always had the most pretty dresses and the most handsome suits. Lot of jewels. Freckles, I think?"

Montparnasse nodded. "I hope Jehan's happy to see me. How could they not be?" He stopped, his eyes wide. "I stole their diamond ring. They hate me."

"Well, we'll see about that," Eponine said, patting his knee. 

 

The rain battered Cosette's face but it was sunny. It was a sunny afternoon. Why was it raining? Cosette spun on herself, her blue dress swift around her. It was night. Then it was day again. A lovely sunny afternoon. Alexei grabbed her hand and led her to the edge of a cliff before jumping into the sea below. 

Her father gestured at her from below. Next to him, her sisters were swimming. 

"Come now, sunshine, jump!" He called. 

Cosette smiled, taking a few steps back. 

"Jump," Nikolai's voice spoke, way down, "Jump and we'll be together. Jump!"

His voice had become a loud growl and Cosette tripped backward, afraid. 

"Come with us, sunshine. Come join the Romanovs, if that's who you are!" He stretched a hand. "Come join us in death!"

It was a lovely sunny afternoon. 

A hand grabbed Cosette's waist. "Wake up!"

It was night. Rain was drenching Cosette's pajamas. Eponine was holding her against her, the rocking of the boat forcing them to sit down. "Cosette, wake up!"

"The Romanovs are dying! The..." Cosette was out of breath. "The Romanovs... The Romanovs are dying!"

"What are you talking about?" Eponine asked, her voice trying to cover the sea storm.

"I keep seeing faces. So many faces." The blonde woman cried.

"It was a nightmare," Eponine soothed, pressing her forehead against Cosette's, "It's all right now. You're safe now. I'm here."

 

It stopped raining when they reached Amiens. They did the rest of the journey on the back of a man's pick up until he dropped them off.

"Look at her. Rattling off in French with him. You’ve taught her well." Eponine laughed, still watching Cosette.

"He says, from the top of the hill, you can just see Paris!" Cosette gushed happily, almost tripping as she ran to swing around a tree. "I'm going to see the Eiffel Tower!"

"You're going to break your own heart, Ponine," Montparnasse said quietly.

"Be quiet. What do you know about anything?"

"If they accept her as Euphrasie, you’ll never see her again."


	6. With Everything To Win...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> jehan is the best and everyone is gay

Grantaire tapped absentmindedly on the lock of his cell.

"I don’t get why you’re on this side of the jail bars," he said.

Enjolras turned to face him. "What do you mean?"

"Getting to know you, I would have thought you’d be the one rioting in the streets, not lounging in your private office."

Enjolras's eyes lit up with indignation.

"I was, in 1917, I was part of the Bolsheviks that meant to change Russia!"

Grantaire snorted. "Well that’s not achieved."

"It's in the process."

Grantaire rolled his eyes.

"We want equality!" Enjolras argued. "We've changed what the Tsars had made of Russia, we’re heading toward something better!"

"No we're not."

"And how are we not?" Enjolras was now standing right in front of Grantaire, their noses almost touching, separated only by the iron jail bars. He was beautifully furious. "Everyone’s equal!" 

"But no ones happy! Do you know when was the last time I ate? The last time I slept in a real bed? Do you know why I keep getting myself arrested? Because they feed me here!"

From their closeness, Grantaire could see Enjolras's blue eyes widen. He then seemed to notice how close they were. 

 _I thought it was because you had a crush on me_ , Enjolras thought before pulling himself away from the cell.

Deep down, he knew Grantaire was right. He thought about the phone call he had received earlier, asking him to go to Paris to make sure that the Cosette girl wasn't the real Euphrasie, and that if she was, he'd have to _kill_ her. This was not the Russia he wanted. 

"Anyway, I hoped you enjoyed your stay in our cell, tea and all, sadly you won't have the same special treatment anymore, I'm leaving for Paris."

Grantaire moved in parallel as Enjolras as the Commissioner headed toward the exit.

"For real? I was planning on going to Paris myself. Since, you know, I have nothing left here. My friends are in Paris too. Plus, I really want to discover the city of artists. Montmartre and stuff. Do you think we'll be in the same train?"

"I don't," Enjolras said. "The Cheka is getting me a special train. No civilian authorized."

"Oh..." Grantaire mouthed. "Well, if we don't run into each other in Paris, I guess this is farewell."

Enjolras nodded, before exiting the room.

Back in his office, he thought about Grantaire's words. The young man was in Paris for pleasure, Enjolras was to kill someone. It was unfair and it made him want to cry.

 

The Count Prouvaire-Malevich owned a flat in a Haussmann building, rue de Constantine, near the Invalides. The flat looked out directly on the Eiffel Tower and Cosette couldn't cease to marvel at everything. The street looked like everything she believed Paris to be. The afternoon sun shone a warm light on the building's facade, it was surreal. 

The big wooden door opened and Montparnasse propped himself from the wall he was leaning against. 

"Hi," he said to the woman who peered at them, "we're looking for the Count Prouvaire-Malevich?"

The woman stepped aside as someone appeared behind her. It was a person with long red hair, dressed in a long floral skirt and a white shirt. 

"Parnasse?" The person said, their voice deep yet high-pitched from surprise.

"Jehan!" Montparnasse face lit up.

In what seemed like either slow motion or watching from afar, like in the movies, Jehan's fist flew into Montparnasse's face. In the corner of Cosette's eye, Eponine flicked her switchblade but Montparnasse grabbed her arm with his free hand, the other pinching his nose which dripped a narrow stream of blood against his cherry lips. Cosette stood there, too flabbergasted to do anything. She looked at Jehan, who was shaking his hand from the pain, then at Montparnasse then back at Jehan.

_They sound like a dragon._

"Do you greet every one that knocks on your door by punching them in the face?" Eponine demanded, narrowing her eyes.

"Only those who pretended to love me then stole my diamond ring," Jehan hissed. 

This did not surprise Cosette in the slightest. 

"I wasn't pretending!" Montparnasse pleaded. "I really did love you. Still do. You are the single most amazing person I know! I love you, I crossed a continent for this moment."

"Still up to your old tricks?" Jehan squinted.

"Admit you’re happy to see me."

"I’m glad you’re not dead, but that’s as far as I’m prepared to go." They gestured them to come in, as passerby were staring at them. "What are you doing in Paris?"

"Didn’t you get my letter?" Montparnasse asked.

"I did; and I promptly tore it up."

Eponine smirked. Montparnasse put a hand on his chest, wounded. "You’ve grown hard, my darling Jehan."

"No harder than need be. I’m not the person you remember, Parnasse."

"Neither," Montparnasse said, dark, "am I."

Jehan sighed. "Not everything is as it looks."

Cosette's eyes caught a mirror, in the stairwell, reflecting them. _Not everything is as it looks._

Earlier, before they embarked on the boat, Eponine had bought her a spring dress with some of the diamond money. The dress was so far away from the rags she wore in St. Petersburg, who could've believed she used to be just an orphan. Next to her reflection, Eponine's was wearing pants, true to herself. Montparnasse's nose was still bleeding but the maid had brought him a tissue. 

Jehan led them to a room upstairs, where they sat them on the ugliest velvet couch ever.  

"Where are my manners! I'm the Count Prouvaire-Malevich but you can call me Jehan!"

"My name is Eponine, an—" Eponine started to introduce herself. 

"I remember you!" Jehan cut her. "You worked at the palace!"

Eponine blinked. "I did, I.. I didn't expect you to remember that."

"You have dimples on your cheekbones. You were the only one who had dimples. I noticed."

The attention made Eponine blush. Cosette thought she looked rather lovely, in the dim afternoon light. 

Jehan smiled at her before turning to Cosette. Their eyes widened.

"May I present Her lmperial Highness the Grand Duchess Euphrasie Sonila Romanov?" Montparnasse said, almost beaming at Jehan's reaction.

"You sure do look a lot like her... But so did many of the others. What was the name of your preceptor?"

Cosette took a deep breath. "Urbain Fauchelevent, but his real name was Jean Valjean."

Her voice shook a little but she managed to utter every word.

Jehan hummed at every answer she gave, smiling at some answers.

"Finally, excuse my impertinence but, how did you escape the Palace. In 1917."

Cosette heard Eponine and Montparnasse suddenly stop breathing and closed her eyes. They had not told her that answer but somehow, it seemed she knew. 

"There was a girl..."

The memory was fleeting. 

"She opened a door, in a wall. I wanted to take the music box but they stranded me. She saved my life." Cosette opened her eyes. "They caught me in the yard. They took me to Yekaterinburg with the other. I... I don't remember the rest."

Her hands were shaking, she hid them behind a plead of her dress. She couldn't remember what the girl had looked like. She glanced at the others. Montparnasse had very wide eyes, Jehan looked delighted and Eponine like she was about to either throw up or pass out.

"You passed!" Jehan beamed. "You answered all the questions right!"

Montparnasse jumped to his feet, hugging Cosette. "You did it!" The hug was so out of place for him, Cosette laughed.

"So, when do we get to meet with the Dowager Empress?" He asked, taking Jehan's hands.

"I'm afraid you won't," they winced. "She doesn't want to see any new Euphrasies. I'm sorry."

"No!" Eponine stood up. "There must be a way! She's the real Euphrasie! The Dowager must see her!"

Cosette had never seen her so upset.

Jehan brushed a strand behind their ear and sighed. "Do you like the Russian Ballet? I believe they're performing in Paris tomorrow night. The Dowager Empress and I love the Russian Ballet. We never miss it."

Eponine's eyes grew wide. "Thank you," she mouthed.

"Now," Jehan said, "you are all dressed lovely but this is no Opera outfit. Come with me, I know the best boutiques to get you an evening dress!"

 

Paris seemed to be buzzing, the sun setting behind the slated roofs. Cosette wanted to engrave every detail in her memory. This was the city she always dreamed about. It was hard to believe she was finally there. She grabbed Eponine's hand, the young woman turning around softly.

"Tell me this is real."

Eponine smiled, her dimples digging into her cheekbones.

"It's all real."

Jehan lead them to a boutique specialized in formal dresses. They seemed acquainted with every worker, smiling and laughing with them. They had knotted their hair in a loose braid on their back and exchanged the Edwardian skirt for a pair of gray trousers. They led Eponine and Cosette to fitting rooms where the salespersons took care of them, picking dresses best fitting their tones and shapes.

Cosette's fitter was a young man with brown curls named Courfeyrac. The dress he suggested to Cosette was dark blue with little inlaid gems that made it look like a starry night. It was open in the back and a thin transparent blue cape was attached at the shoulder blades.

She stepped out of the fitting room to show it to Montparnasse and Jehan.

"You look absolutely gorgeous!" They both gushed.

Cosette spun on herself and suddenly noticed Eponine had come out of her fitting room too.

She was wearing a dark green dress with golden ornamentations which fitted perfectly her olive skin. Cosette placed herself in front of Eponine as they admired each other's dresses.

"You look lovely without pants on," Cosette finally said before blushing.

Eponine snorted. "You look lovely too."

Cosette had enough time to be horrified by her own stupidity as they paid for the dresses. Somehow being around Eponine made her incapable of common sense. Every time she thought about her she blushed. How many idiot things had she done in her presence? 

For some reason, she couldn't keep away from Eponine either. She was drawn to her.

She had not fell in love with Eponine, she realized with a pang, she had flew into love. She had ascended from her poor miserable life into Eponine's and now she was a princess. 

They said goodbye to the workers, Eponine fist bumping her fitter, Musichetta. The gesture seemed so much like her, Cosette wanted to snap a picture of it, keep it near her heart forever.

 

That night, Eponine dreamed of her sister. 

She had not dreamed about Azelma since they'd left St. Petersburg. There was a time when she dreamed about her constantly.

When she woke up, she was crying. 

Sitting on her bed, in the dark, she fiddled with her switchblade. It had not always been hers. A long time ago, Montparnasse had gifted it to Azelma.

A scream tore the night and Eponine leaped to her feet. It came from Cosette's room. 

The blonde woman was clenching her sheets, her knuckles white.

"Hey," Eponine called, taking Cosette's hands in her own. "It's just a dream, Cosette. You're safe, I'm here."

Cosette clung to Eponine's hand as she calmed herself.

"It's the same dream. Again and again. The same faces."

"The Romanovs?"

"I'm tired of seeing their faces... They keep asking me to join them."

"In my dreams," Eponine began, "my sister always asks me why we can't be together."

Cosette raised her head. "You have a sister?"

"Not anymore. She died, a few years ago. Bad fever. Montparnasse never forgave himself."

"It wasn't his fault," Cosette pointed out. "In my dreams, Alexei keeps telling me he's going to die..."

After a pause, she said: "Who do you think I am, Ponine?"

"If I were the Dowager Empress," Eponine answered, "I would want you to be Euphrasie."

"You would?"

"I would want her to be a beautiful, strong, and intelligent young woman."

Cosette's cheeks heated.

"Is that what you think I am?"

"I do," Eponine whispered.

"Thank you," Cosette said. They were still holding hands. "Do you really think I might be her?"

"I want to believe you’re the little girl I saw once, many years ago." 

"I don’t understand," Cosette frowned.

"When I was nine, there was a parade. The little princess was the prettiest of the Romanovs. I think about that day, now and then. The crowd was huge but I chased after the carriage and called out Euphrasie's name. She turned to me and she smiled. And then—"

"You bowed," Cosette finished.

Eponine's jaw dropped. "I didn't tell you that?"

"You didn't have to!" Cosette quavered. "I remember! The crowd, and the sun, and you. I remember!"

"I knew I'd find you again.." Eponine trailed off, her hands still holding Cosette's. 

The moonlight cast a pale shadow on the outline of Cosette's lips. Eponine wanted to kiss her so badly.

She rested her forehead against Cosette's, their breathing tangled.

"Your Highness," she whispered before pulling away.

She knew what this meant. 


	7. ...The Only Thing I Lose Is You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it sad

When Cosette woke up, her eyes fell on the window-side table, lit by a ray of sunshine piercing through the blinds. A book which had not been there the evening before now sat on the laced napkin. 

Cosette ventured out of her bed, the floor cold against her bare feet. She picked the book and went back to sit on the bed. Her hair, now brushed carefully by Jehan the day before, cascaded on her shoulders like a golden halo.

She flipped the book at the first page. A handwritten note said in Russian: "Your future and your past are closer than you think." It was not signed.

She turned the page.

_'Considered the most beautiful bridge in Paris, the Alexander Bridge, as it is affectionately called by Parisians, was named for Tsar Alexander III.'_

The pictures in the book were beautiful but, as she faced the real bridge, Cosette was swept away. The morning sun shone through the Art Nouveau lamps and made the golden ornamentations pop out. She bent over the stone railing to look at the _Nymphs of the Neva_ , holding the arms of Imperial Russia on the side of the bridge. 

The four golden statues on each side of the bridge seemed to be looking at her as protectors. She was home. This bridge was everything she had ever dreamt about. This was somebody's bridge and she was probably this somebody's granddaughter. This bridge was halfway between where she had been and where she was going.

If she was really Euphrasie, that meant there was someone waiting for her, somewhere, on the other side of the Seine. 

 

As the dancers whirled below them in an aching waltz, Eponine's eyes were fixed on a far more beautiful scene. Next to her in the pew, Cosette's eyes were fixed on the Dowager Empress's box, her hands tying and untying her white gloves. Her hair was leveled in an elegant bun and Jehan had lent her some of their finest jewelry. 

Eponine took Cosette's hand in hers, responding to her inquisitive look by a quick: "You don't want to see the Dowager with wrinkled gloves."

Cosette may have replied something but every noise was suddenly drowned by the sound of Eponine's heartbeat pumping in her ears.

She knew it was dangerous. But it felt right. It felt like her hands' purpose had never been to steal or to kill but rather to hold someone's hand. Like every bone and articulation had been created only to be paired with Cosette's hand.

They only broke off to applaud at the end of the ballet. Somehow, it made Eponine feel like she had just lost a piece of herself.

She had seen Montparnasse's side glance. She knew she had only hours left with Cosette before they claimed her as Euphrasie. Then Eponine would just be a vulgar St. Petersburg con woman with a flair for shady business. She'd be nothing again. Cosette would be the long-lost Grand Duchess Euphrasie Romanov. With everything to win, she still loses Cosette.

Princesses did not marry poor servants. Hell, girls did not even marry other girls.

Not that she wanted Cosette to marry her, she just wanted to spend the eternity with her. Cosette's stubbornness, fierceness, and tenderness. Cosette was the piece of her that had been missing all along.

"Don't say it," she muttered to Montparnasse when Cosette was out of earshot.

The young man raised his hands helplessly.

"I was just going to say that you should fight. Also, you have an eyelash on your cheek. Make a wish."

_I wish I was enough for her._

They joined Jehan outside the Dowager's box where they greeted Montparnasse with a kiss and Cosette with a wink. 

"You have a visitor, Your Majesty!" They called before gesturing Cosette in.

The next few minutes were the most excruciating of Eponine's life. When Cosette finally came out, it had seemed like ages had past.

Eponine was about to ask how it had gone when she noticed Cosette's face. The words stuck in her throat.

"She wouldn’t even look at me!" Cosette cried, her voice quavering.

No. No, this was not how it was supposed to go. They couldn't fail so close to the end.

"She said, 'tell this impostor I know her kind too well," she stopped to take in a ragged breath, "She wants money and will break an old woman’s heart to get it’. I don't even know what money she means!"

The reward. Eponine had almost forgotten about it.

"I’ll tell her the truth," Eponine vouched.

"That I was a pawn in a scheme of yours?" Cosette said, pushing Eponine away. "You made me think I was someone I never was or ever could be. I was cold and hungry and desperate when I met you, Eponine; but I was never dishonest." She let the words sink in. "I hate you for that."

Eponine's heart shattered.

"Cosette..," she pleaded.

"No! You stay away from me, _Ponine_."

Cosette pushed passed the crowd that had gathered at the shouts.

Eponine entered the box.

"I really thought she was real, this one," she heard Jehan say. "I mean, she was real, she was not porcelain, but she was not the real one."

"Your Royal Majesty!"

The Dowager Fantine and Jehan spun around.

"Cosette doesn't want your money! I take full responsibility for bringing her to Paris."

"Who is this young woman?" The Dowager asked, wearily.

"My name is Eponine Thenardier, I—"

"Oh," the old woman cut in, "Thenardier. You are the con girl who ran auditions in St. Petersburg to find Euphrasie lookalikes."

"But this time, I believe with all my heart that she _is_ the Grand Duchess Euphrasie!" Eponine pleaded desperately. 

The Dowager merely shook her head and began to walk away. 

"She only wants what’s rightfully hers!" Eponine exploded. "Your recognition, and your loving embrace!"

The Dowager showed no sign of stopping or even listening to a word. Angrily, Eponine stepped on her gown, sparing a thought for the poor dressmaker who embed every pearls on the gorgeous expensive-looking fabric, as a tiny bead rolled away. Eponine was passed making enemies. This was simply about getting Cosette was she deserved.

"Try to imagine her life since her parents, sisters, little brother were murdered."

"I do not need reminding what happened to my family!" The Dowager snapped, ripping her gown from under Eponine's foot. "I lost everything I loved that day!"

A tear pearled at the Dowager's eye. 

"So did she," Eponine asserted.

"Euphrasie is no longer a concern of mine, for I do not believe she actually exists anymore."

Eponine shook her head disbelievingly. 

"God will judge you harshly, old woman. History already has."

Eponine left the box, promptly rejecting any etiquette Montparnasse had taught her.

"She turned her back on me," the Dowager gulped.

When Eponine came back to Jehan's flat, Cosette was stuffing her things in a small suitcase angrily. 

"Cosette," she called, in vain. "Where are you going?"

"Anywhere that’s far from you," Cosette muttered.

Eponine's heart was past the stage of broken. It had been shattered to smithereens. Had she even a heart left? How was she still alive? 

"Cosette, stay..." Eponine whispered, as a single tear smeared her cheek. "I pray you..."

"Go away," Cosette growled.

Eponine's chest was an empty cavity. She left.


	8. and i oop-

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> me (27F) and my long lost grandmother (80F) have unionized

There was a knock on the door. Cosette's anger flared.

"I told you Eponine, go. Away."

Her stare fell on the book about the Alexander Bridge.

"Oh, and take your stupid book—"

She was about to throw it at the person at the door when she realized it wasn't Eponine but the Dowager Empress herself.

"Your Imperial Highness, I though you were..."

"Obviously. Now, I think the question that needs asking is _who are you_?" The Dowager said, moving toward a small couch. 

"I was hoping you could tell me."

"My dear, I'm old," the old lady sighed, "and I'm tired of being conned and tricked."

"I don't want to trick you," Cosette pointed out.

"And I suppose the money doesn't interest you, either?"

"I just want to know who I am. Whether or not I belong to a family," Cosette said, then after a pause: "Your family?"

For a moment, the two women just looked at each other. Fantine's face was wrinkled like an old lavish fabric, of an entire different era. More royal. She looked miserable for a second. 

"Who was my favorite lady-in-waiting?" She asked, her whole face blank again.

"You didn’t have one. You kept dismissing them," Cosette rushed.

"What was your mother’s _full_ title as empress of all Russia?"

"You're different than I expected."

"Her Imperial Majesty the Empress of all thou Russia—"

"She was Mamma to me!" Cosette cried out. "Why did you come here if you don't believe I could be Euphrasie?"

"The Thenardier girl told me you were not part of her _scheme."_

Eponine had asked the Dowager to see Cosette?

"She’s right, I wasn’t," she said with furrowed brows.

"She thinks you very well might be my granddaughter. She says you’ve come to believe it yourself. "

"I believe it with all my heart," the young woman confessed. "But I can’t be her unless you recognize me."

"Honey, you can’t _be_ anyone unless you first recognize yourself." 

Cosette stopped an instant to digest the words.

"Do you know what it means to lose everything, young woman?" The Dowager asked. "My son, his _children_ . Everything I loved and held dear with all my heart, all lost and gone in one terrible moment; and for what? The good of Russia?" She shook her head in a huff, looking at the carpet. " I’ll ask you one last time, be _very_ careful what you answer." She planted her gaze in Cosette's. " _Who are you?!"_

"I... I don’t know anymore. I thought I was just a skinny little nobody with no past and no future. Then I thought I was the Grand Duchess Euphrasie Romanov. Now, I don't even know."

Cosette's mind was full of faces. Screaming faces. Crying faces. Eponine's face. Over and over. There were things she couldn't have made up. Eponine believed in her. Montparnasse too.

Not once in her head her Nana's face had looked so cruel.

"Who are _you_?" Cosette asked instead.

"I'm tired," the Dowager confessed. "I want this to end."

The old woman's gaze was unbearable. It had seen the world. Cosette averted her gaze and her eyes met the music box, lying on the spring dress Eponine had bought her. 

"The last time you saw Euphrasie..." Cosette began.

"I didn't know it was the last time."

"...you gave her a music box."

Cosette leaned to take the small inlaid box.

"This was it, wasn't it? That's what I came back for, in the Palace."

The Dowager took the box in her hands with infinite delicacy.

"There was a necklace..."

"Oh. I didn't know that's what the necklace was for." Cosette grimaced. "I sold the necklace. In 1923. I didn't know. It was at the time I couldn't remember a thing."

"That's what the Thenardier girl said. That you had amnesia. How did you acquire this music box?"

"She gave it to me. She..."

A flash of memory struck Cosette.

"It was her. She was the servant who opened the wall. She's the one who saved my life!"

 _I think I'm in love with her,_ Cosette realized with a pang.

"She must have kept it all this time..."

Absentmindedly, Cosette opened the music box. The familiar melody echoed the walls of the flat.

"Our lullaby..." The Dowager whispered. 

In unison, the two women sang.

"I said I’d come visit you in Paris," Cosette remembered. "We’d go to the ballet together, and walk on grandpapa’s bridge." 

With a sad smile, the Dowager said:

"You never knew him. I loved him very much."

"We’ll walk the bridge together," Cosette promised. "For all of them, Nana."

With a sob, the old lady asked: "What took you so long?"

Cosette nestled herself in her Nana's arms, both of them crying.

"I'm here now."

The smell of orange blossoms surrounded Cosette. She was home.

 

Cosette did not see Eponine again. She was still mad at her for having lied but a part of her also missed the young woman.

Eponine had opened doors to a brand new world. She had brought her to her family. Cosette needed to thank her. And maybe tell her she loved her. Or not. She could just, never speak of it. Just bottle it and one day die without anyone having ever known.

Now that she was Euphrasie Romanov, there could not be rumors of the Grand Duchess being in love with a woman. 

Yet, Cosette wished Eponine was here. 

She looked at her reflection. She was wearing another splendid outfit, a pale blue dress with the bust inlaid of small gems and the bottom of the skirt of tiny flowers. 

Montparnasse placed himself next to her. He was wearing a black tuxedo but still the same top hat. A small flower was tucked inside his breast pocket.

"Look how far you've come. Street sweeper in St. P. and now, you're about to be crowned Grand Duchess of Russia."

Cosette turned to look him in the eyes.

"Is she here?"

He shook his head sadly.

"She's probably spending the reward somewhere," Cosette affirmed.

Montparnasse's lips parted in a confused way. "You didn't know? She refused the reward."

"She what now?"

Montparnasse smiled a little before turning his gaze back to Jehan who had just entered the room with the Dowager. Jehan's outfit once again challenged both gender norms and fashion rules. They were wearing a bright yellow laced shirt with a huge skirt that made it look like they had just draped themselves in a meadow.

The Dowager Empress's dress was much formal and discreetly elegant. She was wearing a crown full of tiny diamonds which seemed to form a beacon of light atop her head under the chandelier. She held out a hand for Cosette to take.

"Is everything okay, my darling? You seem quite pale?"

She dismissed Montparnasse and Jehan, not before glaring at Montparnasse for good measure.

"Is it true that Eponine refused the reward?" Cosette asked timidly.

"Oh yes, she did. I believe you've found yourself a different kind of prince, or princess should I say. Not one of birth, but of character."

"She's not my princess," Cosette laughed, in what she hoped was a normal laugh but it might have been hysterical.

"It’s not plain to you that she _loves_ you?"

Yup there was a hysterical laugh bubbling up inside Cosette.

"I want you to know that you are my granddaughter and I will love you anyway," Fantine said, holding Cosette's hands in hers, "It does not bother me that a girl loves you, or that you love her back, as long as you are happy. Are you happy Euphrasie?"

"I'm... I need... I need to find Eponine. I need to tell her..."

The Dowager smiled.

"I knew you would say that. Nothing obliges you to become Euphrasie. I know that I've found you, it's all that matters. That we have each other."

It made Cosette want to cry. 

"Thank you Nana," she whispered, hugging her grandmother. 

The Dowager caressed her cheek and kissed her forehead before leaving the room.

Cosette needed to find Eponine!

She spun on her heels, her dress swaying around her like a cloud. Her breath caught in her throat.

Deputy Commissioner Vaganov was standing in front of her, a gun in his hand. 


	9. Harold, They're Lesbians

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> just gals being pals being gays

"Enjolras?" She gasped, not quite sure to believe her eyes. "I thought you were in St. Petersburg. Leningrad. Whatever. What are you doing here?"

It seemed a bit ludicrous to ask that as he was holding a gun. 

"I’ve come to take you home," Enjolras said.

"My home is here now," she argued.

"Stop playing this game, Cosette! I beg you! The Cheka wants the real Euphrasie dead. I can only hope you are not. I don't want to kill you."

"It’s not a game, Enjolras. I am Euphrasie."

"You really believe in your own lies? Tell me, if you really are Euphrasie, do you think history wants you to have lived?"

"I know that The Romanovs were given everything and gave back nothing in return, I'm not stupid Enjolras. I can't excuse the crimes of my family. But I am different. I don't want to be royal or whatever. It's not my life."

"It is mine. It's in my blood. My father killed the Romanovs. I must do the same."

"Then do it and I will be with my parents and my siblings in that cellar in Yekaterinburg all over again!"

"For Russia, my beauty, it's not even a choice, but a simple duty. We have the past to bury!"

"You really believe in making Russia grander, do you?"

"I do."

"Do you really believe that starts with murder?"

Enjolras hand trembled. 

 _Everyone's equal_ , he had said. _But nobody's happy_ , Grantaire had replied.

They had failed. They had maintained the reign of terror.

He lowered the gun.

"I believe you. I didn't want to but I do now. You are Euphrasie."

He dropped to his knees. For several seconds, he kept his eyes on the ground, his head bowed. 

"In 1917," he began, "after the Bolsheviks uprisings, my father was asked to kill the Romanovs. While he was away in Yekaterinburg, my mother left. She took with her my little sister. She said she couldn't bare the shame of a regime based on hatred and murder."

He took a deep breath.

"I thought it was you. You looked like her, you had the same age she would have been. I didn't want you to be Euphrasie because that meant you weren't my sister."

He stopped abruptly. Cosette had put a hand on his hand and was soothingly caressing his hair. 

"I'm sorry," she said. "There was a time I would have given anything to be someone's family. I hope you find her one day."

Enjolras nodded before raising back to his feet. A tear had rolled down his cheek. 

"I hope you have a nice life, no matter what you do with it," he said, kissing her hand. "Your Highness."

"What will you tell them?" Cosette asked.

Oh. The Cheka. He had forgotten.

"Nothing. I can't go back. Not after letting you go. They'll kill me. Then they'll send someone else for you."

"What?" Cosette piped.

"I mean, the best thing you can do is like, fake your death?" Enjolras suggested.

"Is that what you're gonna do?"

"Definitely. Fake suicide maybe, I bet the Seine is lovely at this time of the year. I'll tell them I was not my father's son after all."

"No! Tell them there was never any Euphrasie, that it was just a rumor. I'll ask my Nana to tell the press the same."

Enjolras smiled kindly.

"See you around then, Cosette."

"See you around, Deputy Commissioner Vaganov."

"Oh, for fuck sake," he swore, "just call me Enjolras already!"

Cosette let out a laugh.

"Enjolras. Have a nice life."

They parted ways, Cosette to find Eponine, Enjolras to find a small disheveled man who mentioned he would be in Montmartre. They had lives to live, and no one to tell them what to do or who to be.

 

Eponine was purchasing train tickets for Reims when suddenly it seemed like a cloud had just walked in the station. Her heart swelled when she noticed the cloud had a face and it was Cosette's.

The young woman made her way toward Eponine, her dress drawing everyone's attention.

"You're going back to St. Petersburg?" Cosette asked.

"No, I can't. My father's back in town, I don't want to run into him."

The whole conversation was surreal. Eponine wanted to scream 'I love you' and also 'please never leave me again'.

"I'm sorry I told you to leave," Cosette confessed. "I don't really want you to leave." 

Eponine's throat was tight.

"What do you want?"

"I want you to spend the rest of your life with me. I..." 

Eponine's heart was beating so fast she could hear it in her ears.

"I love you," Cosette finally said.

Had she heard right? What was going on? Was she dreaming?

"You love me? You want to be with me?"

Cosette laughed. "Yes. Do you want to be with me?"

"I... Yes! I love you! But I can't be with you," Eponine frowned. "Princesses don't marry servants."

"Well, good thing that I'm not a princess, then," Cosette said sheepishly, bouncing on her toes.

"Oh you're not?" Eponine lifted an eyebrow. "The dress could've fooled me."

"I am not Euphrasie. I never was Euphrasie. Because there never was an Euphrasie. She was a dream. A rumor. There's only Cosette. Cosettes can marry Eponines."

The two were now standing barely inches away.

"Girls can't really marry girls, can they?"

"Just a detail," Cosette whispered. "We don't even have to get married. We can just... live together forever. In Reims or wherever you want. Just... stay with me."

"I promise I'll never leave your side. Also the whole station is staring," Eponine murmured back.

"Let them stare," the blonde woman replied before kissing her. 

With a grin, Cosette grabbed Eponine's hand, and the two ran to the exit. Eponine tripped over Cosette's dress two times but they managed to reach Jehan's flat, blocks down. 

They were kissing again before they even reached the staircase. 

"What took you so long?" Eponine asked, out of breath.

"I'm here now," Cosette replied, their foreheads touching.

_I'm home._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i did it! i finished a story!! this never happens!!  
> but you can find me on twitter @viventlspeuples i'll happily discuss about anything with you! thank you for making it this far without giving up! have a nice day! or night! i tend to read a lot of fanfics at night  
> see you around!


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